


hope's just hard to find

by thorbiased



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: And Lots of It, Angst, Canon Divergence, Canon Typical Violence, Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, Frigga is a Good Mom, Gen, Grieving, Hurt Thor, Loki Needs a Hug, Loki centric, Mind Control, Not the Avengers compliant, Poor Thor (Marvel), Post-Thor (2011), Thor Needs a Hug, Torture, What If Thor Fell?, What if.., evil!Thor, hurt without much comfort, more to be added - Freeform, thor centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28254831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorbiased/pseuds/thorbiased
Summary: In which a different brother falls from the Bifrost.— canon divergence fic. what if thanos used thor to invade earth?
Relationships: Jane Foster & Clint Barton, Loki & Frigga, Loki & Heimdall, Loki & Odin, Loki & Sif, More to be added - Relationship, Natasha Romanoff & Nick Fury, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Thor & Heimdall, Thor & Loki, Thor & Odin, Thor & Sif, Thor & The Warriors Three, Thor/Jane Foster, Tony Stark & Natasha Romanoff
Comments: 47
Kudos: 81





	1. the fall

**Author's Note:**

> went through a tough round of writer's block over the past month but i finally kicked it! this idea started swirling in my head after what must've been my hundredth rewatch of thor (2011) and bam! here she is. i know it's tagged as graphic descriptions of violence, but it's not gorey...just sad. hopefully there will be 3-4 parts! enjoy <3

" so don't wait for the ending

until your last breath starts to leave,

before you finally remember, 

how much you like to breath. "

The sound of the explosion was deafening, but only for a moment. After the initial blast, all Thor could hear was a piercing ringing in his ears and the faint sound of Loki screaming as they both tumbled towards the jagged remains of the Bifrost. The explosion must have knocked Thor into some kind of semi-conscious state because he couldn’t even think enough to be afraid. He might have screamed, too, but who could tell? 

Burning pain screamed in his shoulder, yanking him out of the haze. His head darted up to see Loki dangling above him, hand locked around one end of Gungnir. His own hand was wrapped around the spear end, right above the blade. Survival instincts kicked in, he guessed. Just above Loki stood Odin with his hand wrapped firmly around Loki’s ankle. There was fear like Thor had never seen written on his father’s face. 

This was bad, Thor realized for the first time. He might not make it back into solid ground. 

“What have you done, Loki?” Odin hissed. Even in this dire moment, he couldn’t pass up an opportunity to scold his youngest son. 

Anger surged through Thor’s chest. His hand was slipping, now, he didn’t have much time. He’d better make it count. “Stop this, father!” he called. His voice echoed in the void to the point of distortion. It almost sounded like a siren call. “You failed Loki, as did I.”

Loki adjusted his grip on the spear and Thor felt himself slip further. Not much longer now. “Thor…”

“I’m sorry,” Thor said, looking at his brother and his brother only. “Your fall was not entirely your fault. I hope…I hope you know that I love you, brother. I’m so sorry. I forgive you, for everything. I hope you can forgive me, as well.” 

His shoulder made an audible pop, and Thor screamed. “I can’t hold on,” he said, “I’m sorry.” 

Tears streamed down Loki’s cheeks as he tried to pull Thor up closer to him. “Don’t let go. Thor! _Thor!_ ”

Thor’s smile was rueful. “Goodbye, Loki.” 

With a deliberate uncurling of his hand, Thor let himself sink into the waiting void as the screams of his loved ones followed him down. 

The first thing he remembered when he next woke were those screams, but that emotional pain was soon overtaken by the physical. 

Sand pressed into his skin like needles. The smell of dried blood clogged his senses and made his stomach turn. When he tried to move, every bone and muscle in his body screamed with pain, leaving him panting and stuck on the ground. 

He peeled his eyes open and tried to gauge where he’d landed. Wherever he was was a dark, shadowy place. Rock formations jutted into the sky all around him in a loose circle. The sky was just light enough to tell where the horizon began, but not light enough to give much indication of where he was. 

Footsteps crunched against the sand, getting louder as they grew closer. Thor made a noise in the back of his throat and tried to get away from whoever was coming, or at least turn over so he could look at them, but his body refused to cooperate. 

The creature spoke in some archaic language but it did not outdate his Allspeak. “Is he dead?” the thing hissed, even the translation coming out as a sickening growl. 

Another creature planted a swift kick to Thor’s ribs and got a low groan in response. “Alive.”

The first alien chuckled. “Master will be very pleased,” he said. 

Thor squeezed his eyes shut. He’d abandoned the idea of escaping now. He just wanted to curl into a ball and let it happen. Clawed hands wrapped around his tattered cape and lifted him to eye level with the beasts that had found him. Thor’s stomach rolled at the sight of them. Chitauri. Some of the most dangerous and stupid creatures in the entire galaxy. 

“Even with all the bruises, he’s got a pretty face,” the other observed, circling Thor like a potential buyer. Thor struggled against his captor, but all he managed to do was swing a little. “He looks strong. Most likely of royal blood, given the outfit.” 

“Let...let me go,” Thor managed, his voice low and gravelly. His mouth was full of sand, he realized. He must have landed face-first. That would explain the pain in his jaw and cheek that flared up every time he opened his mouth. “Please.”

The Chitauri holding Thor laughed. “You will come with us. Master would not allow a worthy pawn to fall from his grasp.” 

The other Chitauri turned their many eyes to something Thor couldn’t see in the distance. “We must go now. Master calls.”

Thor was then slung harshly over the shoulder of the Chitauri. His head made contact with the armor on its back, knocking him into a daze that lasted until he was dropped to the ground again, this time at the feet of a large floating chair. 

Thor slumped to the side so that he was staring up at the chair from a strange angle. The creature in the chair was...oh, Norns. 

White-hot fear surged through Thor’s body. He shivered from head to toe. The urge to get up and run returned with a vengeance. That creature was Thanos, the Mad Titan, the beast Hell-bent on destroying half of all life in the universe. 

“What have you brought me?” Thanos asked, his deep and imposing voice echoing over the landscape. 

Thor wanted to stand and face the Titan like the prince of Asgard he was. He wanted to fight his way out of this situation and go home. But he was stuck in his own body, begging his muscles and joints to act on the commands his brain was making. 

“A worthy pawn,” one of the Chitauri crooned. 

Thanos rose from his throne and made his way to Thor. He lifted him by the front of his armor. His gaze was cold and calculating. Thor felt like an object, but fear kept his lips sealed against the objections he wanted to hurl at Thanos’ ugly head. 

“He cannot move, nor speak. How do...” Thanos’ voice trailed off as his gaze locked in on Thor’s chest, where the rows of Asgardian disks were gleaming in the faint light of dusk. “An _Asgardian_. Royalty, as well. A son of Odin?”

Thor scowled. “Go to Hel,” he spat, his body shaking from the effort of keeping his head up. His vision was snowy, now. He’d hit his head _hard_ against the Chitauri’s back. 

Thanos just sighed. “They’re always stubborn when we first find them,” he said like this was only a brief inconvenience. “I have a tool to help you submit, but I will only use it if I must. I believe I can break you the old fashioned way.”

“You’ll have to kill me before I help you, Titan,” Thor growled. If he had Mjolnir, he could heal himself quicker. If he had Mjolnir, he could get out of here. But she was stuck on Asgard, too far away to hear his call. 

“Oh, they say that, too,” Thanos sighed. “Take him to a cell. I’ll be there shortly to assist you.”

Thanos dropped Thor back onto the sand. Thor couldn’t contain the cry that escaped him. The two Chitauri pulled him back to his feet and dragged him away from Thanos and his throne, ignoring his pained whimpers. 

Thor watched his boots leave trails in the sand with resignation. All his fight was gone, drained from him by the wormhole. He could still hear Loki’s screams echoing in his head. Some hopeful part of him wondered if his brother would come for him, or if Heimdall could see him this far away from home. A bit more realistic part of him knew there’d be no escaping this. 

They brought him to a dingy cell and locked him inside. There were empty shackles on the wall, but Thor guessed they wouldn’t bother with those while he was in this condition. A cot sat in the corner, a flattened straw mattress atop it. Dignity be damned, Thor crawled to it and sunk into the poor comfort it offered. 

“I do not think Master should spare the effort it would take to bring him down,” one Chitauri whispered after taking its spot as guard. “He is weak.”

Oh-so-familiar anger rushed into Thor’s chest and made his cheeks flush red. _Norns_ , if only he could stand. He’d never be called weak again. As it was, he lied there and let the allure of sleep take over. 

The sound of Thanos’ unmistakable voice woke him this time. Thor had no idea how much time had passed, but he seemed to have regained the ability to sit up straight without breaking a sweat since he shot up on the cot as soon as he saw Thanos coming in. 

“I have a proposition for you, Odinson,” Thanos said, coming to a stop in front of the cell. He clasped his hands together like this was some casual conversation between two friends. “I need someone to invade Midgard for me. I’ve learned you have experience there.”

Thor lifted his chin. “I will not help you.”

“As you’ve said,” Thanos said, tilting his massive head to the side. “You will, though. You see, I need you to go to Midgard to retrieve an infinity stone for me. One of its siblings, the mind stone, is my tool to get your help.”

Thor’s stomach turned. “Why wait, then? Just force me to do whatever dark deeds you wish.”

Thanos’ lips peeled back in a sadistic grin. “Mindless minions are no fun. It’s always a good challenge for me, to see if I can break you. And you know what, Asgardian? 

Thor swallowed. 

“I haven’t had to use the stone yet,” he whispered as he turned the key in the lock on Thor’s cell door. 

Fear forced Thor onto shaky legs. Thanos towered over him. Shadows obscured his face, but there was no mistaking the smile on his lips. Thor only hoped he could be an exception. He vowed then that he would do more than hope. He would die before submitting willingly. He’d fight, if not physically, but mentally. Breaking was not an option. 

Thanos wrapped his cold hand around Thor’s throat and raised him off the ground. He squeezed just tight enough to make breathing painful but not impossible. “It’s all a matter of how long it takes you to break.”

“I’ll...never,” Thor managed through gasps. 

Thanos flung Thor back into the wall with a frustrated growl before yanking him, dazed and bleeding, back into his grasp. He carried him out of the cell and down a long corridor, past rows of even more cells. A blue cyborg slept in one, her dark eyes turned to Thor with seething hatred. There was an open gash on her cheek. Thor shivered at the sight of her. 

“Pay my daughter no mind,” Thanos said, increasing the pressure on Thor’s neck. 

_Daughter_. If this was how Thanos treated his own, Thor knew there would be no mercy waiting for him. 

He was taken to a larger room, empty save for a set of shackles in the middle of the floor. Thanos chained him to the ground, and Thor immediately pulled against the restraints, only to find no weakness in their hold. His stomach swooped low. 

The door to the room opened and another ugly minion of Thanos stepped inside holding a long curved scepter. There was a glowing blue stone in its blade. The mind stone. Thor tried not to let his confusion show. What was all that talk about breaking him for, then?

“Giving up so quickly?” Thor questioned, raising his head at the staff. 

Thanos smiled and crossed the space between them. He knelt in front of Thor and lifted his chin with the blade. The freezing metal bit into his skin. “Don’t worry. I’m not finished with you yet. I just need a little backstory before we begin.”

Thor pulled back against short chains when Thanos turned the pointed tip of the scepter to the middle of his forehead. It glowed brilliant blue for a moment, then Thor slumped forward as its magic coursed through his body. He saw flashes of memories he’d thought long forgotten, some of the best and worst moments of his long life. It went by in a blur. If Thanos was looking, he couldn’t imagine how he’d be able to discern anything from it all. 

Thanos pulled the scepter back with a sigh. Thor strangled on oxygen, trying to regain his lost senses and solidify the present. Remnants of memories lingered in his head for a moment before fading back into nothing, leaving Thor alone and shaking. 

“What a long life you’ve lived, _Thor_.”

The sound of his name coming from the Titan’s mouth made his blood boil. His head snapped up with his teeth bared. “My name is not yours to speak, Titan.”

Thanos struck him so hard it sent sparks across his vision. “You have no name, remember? Banished prince. Unwanted. Unworthy.”

Thor sunk back in on himself. His muscles slowly relaxed. The words meant nothing. He shut his eyes and let his mind take him away from here. He thought of Jane, her sketches and—

Thanos’ boot made a dull thud as it collided with Thor’s stomach. 

Now Loki, when they were younger, stealing pies from the kitchen. The maids were so angry.

“None of them will care that you’re gone.” 

Thor tasted blood in his numbed mouth. 

Sif rode a horse a few paces ahead of him. Her laughter floated through the trees like bubbles blown. 

“Arrogant. Selfish. What kind of prince were you? What kind of son?”

Frigga tucked a braid behind his ear and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

Thor screamed for the first time since he’d arrived when he felt his rib break. Thanos had the gall to chuckle before he brought down his massive elbow onto Thor’s temple. Whatever strength Thor had been using to hold himself up left him, then. He sprawled out on the blood-stained ground. 

Bleary eyes turned up to Thanos without fear. His voice was hard to find, but not impossible to muster. “...is that all you got?” 

It was not, Thor would learn. The days blended into weeks and weeks into months. Every day was the same in Thanos’ hospitable care. Thanos would rouse him from his cell, drag him back to those chains, and beat him until he was bored of it. He spoke with cruel intentions, calling out all of Thor’s deepest fears and insecurities. Thor relied on happy memories to keep him grounded, but those were wearing thin. He might have gone mad, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was pain and poor distractions. 

Thor had carved nearly a hundred tally marks onto the wall of his cell when Thanos caved. Thor wouldn’t have guessed it would be so soon. He’d prepared to survive much longer. But that morning he didn’t wake to a cold hand ripping him from his cot, but the blade of the scepter being pressed into his cheek. 

“I have run out of time to waste, Odinson.”

Thor felt warm blood trickle down his cheek. A grin spread slowly across his face, and he chuckled. His laughter morphed into a cackle. Thanos smacked him with the back of his hand. 

“What’s so funny?”

Thor swiped his tongue over dried lips. “I beat you,” he panted, “I outlasted you.”

Thanos growled and shoved the scepter into Thor’s chest. He felt it pierce his skin, he felt a surge of fear, he felt the distinct urge to call for his mother. Mystic blue filled his vision and panic swept into his chest. His eyes rolled back into his head. One by one his limbs went fuzzy. The last thing he was aware of was Thanos, frowning above him. 

No that wasn’t true. 

Just before the stone took over, Thor thought of Jane.


	2. the aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which another brother is left to mourn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y’all thought the last one was sad? strap in. also, i’m posting this a day ahead of schedule because i don’t have the patience to wait one more day and after the whole ‘ao3 down’ debacle i wanted celebrate the return of the website with a chapter upload. anyway, enough about me, hope y’all enjoy

Loki barely noticed when Odin pulled him back from the edge of the void and sat him on solid ground. He sunk to his knees, eyes locked on the steadily reforming sky ahead of him. The stars fell back into place, stitching themselves back together without a passing thought as to how they’d just ripped Loki’s heart to shreds. 

_You failed Loki, as did I._

The admission, the apology, the forgiveness. It had left his head swimming—it was all he’d ever wanted, if presented to him by a dying man. Yet, even in the face of the acceptance he’d longed for his whole life, he felt alone still. Abandoned by Laufey, unloved by Odin, deserted by Thor. His chest stirred with familiar anger, but it fell flat. What good did it do to be angry with Thor, who’d spent his last breaths on Loki, begging for forgiveness and giving out his own? 

It was all he’d ever wanted.

And he’d have traded it all to have him back. 

“Loki.”

Loki jumped at his father’s voice. Guilt weighed his chest down like the chains he’d likely soon find himself wrapped in. He turned his head as more tears slipped down his cheeks. “Father?”

Odin’s face was grey, and even the multi-colored shimmer of the Bifrost’s light did not bring life to his eye. “Thor...Thor would not have me punish you. Frigga would likely fight it, as well.”

Loki’s brows furrowed. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“This was an accident,” Odin said as if he was talking to himself and not Loki. His head lifted, and his gaze turned to the stars. Loki felt small at his feet, but what else was new? “I will not lose both of my sons tonight.” 

Loki pushed himself to his feet with a wince. “You’re just letting me go, then? No dungeons. No banishment. Nothing?”

Odin frowned. “Thor gave you his forgiveness. Did you deserve it?” 

_I forgive you. I hope you can forgive me, too._

There was still anger in him, still so much hurt, but there was something else there, too. Determination, maybe. Something like it. Something that begged him to honor Thor’s last wishes. Something that longed to be half as good as what Thor saw in him. 

Loki swallowed. “I’ll try to.”

A beat passed, then Odin nodded. “This was all an accident,” he repeated before turning towards the kingdom and heading back. 

Loki watched him disappear into the square in silence. Even the ocean below him seemed quieter than usual. He turned his eyes to the sky above him and sighed. “Oh, brother,” he whispered, “what am I to do now?”

Making his way back to his damaged palace was a start. 

Odin must have told the guards to leave him alone since all he got when he passed through the gates was an assortment of glares. He wanted to squirm under their gaze, but he pretended not to notice. They’d always hated him. Never so openly until that night. Could he blame them? 

He didn’t know where to go, so he wandered. The halls of the palace were unusually silent. Thor’s absence was felt most in the silence. He was usually so bloody loud. Loki wanted to scream if only to fill the void. For so long he’d lived in Thor’s shadow only to find that he shunned the light when he was gone.

Sif found him after an hour of wandering the halls. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her cheeks were splotchy. Under different circumstances, Loki may have teased her for it, but as it was, he stood silent as she marched towards him from the other end of the hallway. 

“You did this,” she whispered when she’d reached him. She jammed her pointed finger into his chest so hard he stumbled back. “He’s dead, and it’s your fault.” 

Loki swallowed. “Sif…”

Sif opened her mouth, and Loki braced for shouting, only for the anger that marred her features to dissolve into anguish. “He’s gone.”

He was risking castration, but Loki stepped closer to Sif and wrapped his arms around her. She hugged him so tight it hurt, but he didn’t dare object. She wouldn’t have heard him anyway; her sobs drowned out any sound in the palace. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. His thumb traced circles in the space between her shoulder blades. Grief wrapped its cold hand around his throat. “I’m so sorry.”

“I want to be angry,” Sif said when she’d cried herself out. She hadn’t moved from his embrace. “Odin said...he said Thor forgave you. I want to honor that.” 

_I forgive you. I hope you can forgive me too._

Sif leaned back and glared at him. Even though she looked broken and disheveled, Loki felt her fury. “If you give me even one reason to distrust you, I will not hesitate to kill you.”

“I believe you,” Loki muttered, rubbing the back of his neck with an awkward smile. Sif was hard to talk to, always had been. He never knew if she wanted to punch him or ignore his existence. “For what it’s worth, I will try to be worthy of his forgiveness.”

Sif took a breath. “I believe you.” 

A smile passed between them. Not one of forgiveness, not entirely. Sif’s fury would burn longer than Thor’s had, but it was a start. She nodded once and turned with the precision of a soldier, then disappeared again through the corridor. 

Loki didn’t curse the silence this time, for fear it would summon another friend to sob into his shoulder. 

There was one person he needed to speak with though. He let his eyes fall shut as he reached into his supply of seidr, then prodded out over the palace in search of his mother’s. He found her alone in her library, where she’d been so many times before. Something told him this visit would not go as easily as the others. 

The door was shut when he reached it. The air was so empty, so devoid of sound, that he could hear her sniffling from outside. His stomach clenched with guilt. Maybe he shouldn’t go in. This was his fault, after all. Perhaps Frigga wouldn’t be as forgiving as Thor or Odin. Frankly, he was still shocked about the latter. He had a gut feeling that mercy would run out. 

Before he could decide whether or not to leave, the door opened with an extended creak. “Loki,” Frigga breathed. Loki took a sharp intake of breath at the sight of her. Her eyes were red, her cheeks were puffy. Oh, she looked heartbroken. “My son.”

Loki stiffened as she threw her arms around his shoulders and pulled him close to her chest. He had half expected her to slap him. This was, well, the fourth surprise of the night. Nothing was going as it should have, and he should’ve felt relieved, but he was on edge. This was some dream. He’d wake up in the gallows soon. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, “This is all my fault.”

Frigga didn’t pull back, nor did she correct him. She was never one to sugarcoat things. “It is partially so, but not entirely. Thor did not blame you, nor shall I.”

Tears welled in his eyes for only the second time that night. He was only aware of his throat tightening for a moment before he broke down. His very soul ached with loss. His body shook from head to toe, and Frigga held him close through it all. He missed Thor. It took his death for him to realize how much he needed him. Flawed as his brother was, he loved him. Norns, he wanted him back. 

Frigga pressed a kiss to his forehead as he shed his last few tears. “Shh,” she murmured, “It’s alright. It’s alright.”

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” Loki whispered, “It’s like a nightmare.”

Frigga brushed a tear from his eye with the pad of her thumb. “Oh, my love, I know, but things will get better. You’ll see.”

Maybe Frigga was right, but Loki found it all too easy to doubt her. 

They held Thor’s funeral two days after his death. Loki didn’t remember any of the planning, though he was present for all of it. What did it matter? Thor wouldn’t be there to see the floral arrangements. Thor couldn’t taste which mead they served. Still, it seemed of great import to Frigga, so he grinned and beared it. 

The funeral gathered a crowd larger than his coronation had, which might’ve been surprising if Thor wasn’t so popular across the realms. There were nobles from nearly every realm in attendance, and quite a few common folk as well. Thor had many friends from Vanaheim. Hogun’s younger sisters were quite infatuated with him. They were devastated. 

No one knew what Loki had done. He’d always felt like an imposter, but never more than that night. As he shook hands with distant cousins and received hugs from over-affectionate aunts, he couldn’t help but wonder how they would look at him if they knew the true color of his skin. He didn’t dare think of what could happen if they knew Thor’s blood was on his hands. 

There was no body to burn, of course, but they cast off an empty ship and pyre anyway. It was tradition. The funeral would’ve felt wrong without it. Loki stared through rather than _at_ the ship as it floated towards the waterfall surrounding the realm. He imagined Thor there, his body still and cold but peaceful, and felt sick. Where was Thor’s body? The black hole...it would have crushed him. Thor’s face, marred with black and purple bruises, flashed across eyes. Loki only opened his death was quick. 

Frigga reached down and squeezed his hand, dragging him out of his spiraling thoughts and into the present. She turned her light eyes to the sea, to the burning tribute to his brother. Loki remembered with a start that he was supposed to conjure a display of sparks. Another something for tradition. If Thor’s body was there, Odin would release his soul and it would travel to Valhalla in a show of light. Given the circumstances, Loki would create a false image. 

“I bid you take your place in Valhalla,” Loki whispered in chorus with a thousand mournful voices, “where the brave shall live forever.”

The crowds dispersed after that, filing back into their homes or through the Bifrost until once again, the palace was empty. Loki couldn’t take it anymore. The palace had become a relic. Memories stained its halls. 

So his legs carried him to the Bifrost’s shattered remains, where a grieving Heimdall waited alone. He’d not been allowed to leave his post for the funeral, though Loki was sure he’d been watching. The redness of his eyes told him as such. 

“Heimdall.”

“My prince.”

Loki took a shaky breath. “I’ve apologized to everyone I’ve wronged except you.”

_And Thor_. 

Heimdall took a deep breath. “I saw your exchange on the Bifrost. I’ve seen you in the days since. There is no need to feel such guilt, Loki. Mistakes are made. We must move on. Though, for what it’s worth, I forgive you.”

Silence settled between them. It was peaceful out here. Loki understood then why Thor came to the observatory so often. An odd thought occurred to him that if Thor could’ve chosen to die anywhere, it may very well have been here.

Months passed. The pain damped to a dull ache. Loki visited Heimdall every night, and the two of them served as a vigil for Thor. That star-gazing fool. 

“How do the realms fare this evening, good Heimdall?” 

It was a night like all the others. The bifrost had not been reconstructed yet, but plans were in place. Loki was anxious to see it completed. This broken and battered place hung heavy with memories. The palace at least had good ones. Here was only darkness and pain. 

Despite this, a soft smile turned the corners of Heimdall’s lips. Stars glittered in the reflection of his eyes as they roamed the galaxy. “Well,” he started, but his words faltered. His breathing quickened. Loki could sense the worry in his seidr, but anyone could see that he was shocked. “It’s Thor.”

Heimdall might as well have shoved him off the side of the Bifrost. “ _What?_ ”

“He is on Midgard. Something is wrong,” he managed. He gathered Hofund into his hands and turned to Loki. His eyes were blown wide. Loki could hear his blood rushing in his ears. “Thor lives, Loki, _Thor lives_.”


	3. the arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which a different scientist is witness to Thor’s arrival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we’re back :D a couple notes before you dig in, i saw a tumblr post about how it makes more sense narratively for jane to be the scientist that shield recruited for work on the tesseract, which is why she’s in this now. (sorry erik 

Jane nibbled the end of her pen as her other hand danced over her keyboard. The model of the tesseract shifted and turned as she changed coordinates and dimensions. She could hear her S.H.I.E.L.D-issued laptop’s fan humming with effort. She huffed a laugh. _Me and you both._

They’d holed her up in the desert somewhere. A S.H.I.E.L.D. base that, according to the rumors passed between agents, not even the president knew about. All to study the tesseract, the thing Captain America took from the Nazis or whatever. Jane wasn’t a history major, but she was an astrophysicist, which is why she was now living on a government base, studying alien technology, doing things that the president was not aware of. 

“Working hard, Foster?” Clint asked from across the room. Clint was one of her friends on base. Really, he was the only non-scientist that spoke to her on a regular basis. She liked him, though. He was funny, and his dog, which he managed to sneak on base from time to time, was cute. He sat atop a pile of storage containers, adjusting the calibration of his bow. “Or is all that fancy finger work your attempt to flirt via sign language?”

Jane snorted. “The model needs to be updated as the tesseract changes, and the tesseract won’t _stop_ changing. It’s fascinating, but it’s annoying.”

“Ah. Is it doing something?”

Jane bobbed her head. Her glasses slid down on her nose, and she pushed them up as she answered, “In simple terms, yeah. It’s giving off more energy than usual, but it’s also expanding? I don’t know.”

Clint sat his bow to the side and hopped down from his perch. He winced—static in his hearing aids most likely; they’d been going haywire ever since they brought in the tesseract. “Sounds real science-y.” 

“That’s one word for it,” she hummed. She sighed and pushed back from the standing desk. “Wanna help me poke it with a stick?”

Clint’s eyes widened, and a grin spread across his face. “Hell yeah.” 

Jane crossed the room and stood with the toes of her boots right at the edge of the caution tape. Clint was right beside her, barely restrained childish glee in his eyes. Jane leaned in with her pen and tapped the glass-like surface of the tesseract. A bright blue burst of energy shot out, and the two jump back with a gasp. 

“Shit,” Jane breathed, clenching her fists at her sides. Her hands tremored. “Maybe I shouldn’t…”

Alarms blared throughout the base. Red and blinding white lights flashed overhead. Jane and Clint shared one panicked look before the tesseract shone electric blue. Jane didn’t even have time to think before Clint knocked her to the ground with his hand cupping the back of her head. The entire room was washed in blue, so bright Jane buried her face in Clint’s shoulder. 

An ear-shattering boom shook the base. Jane was pretty sure she could feel her bones rattle from the impact. _God_ , she should not have poked that thing. Just as Jane was accepting her death, it stopped. The smell of acrid smoke filled the air, plus...blood? 

Jane looked up from Clint’s chest to see a figure standing on the platform where they’d been holding the tesseract. White and blue remnants blurred her vision and lingered when she blinked. Clint pushed himself off her, tapping his hearing aid as he did. 

Jane signed, _Are you okay?_

Clint nodded and signed back, _Broken._

He rolled to the side, and Jane looked back to the man who’d emerged from the tesseract. She gasped and jumped to her feet. 

“Thor!”

Thor turned his head sharply to face her. Jane’s stomach swooped low. Jane hadn’t known Thor for long, but she knew instinctively that something was very, very wrong. His cheeks had been full and rosy, but they were sunken now. His eyes looked bluer than usual, like, unnaturally so. His lips were dry and cracked. There were bruises peeking out from under his armor. He was holding something unfamiliar: a golden scepter with a blue stone in the blade. 

It took a second for his glassy eyes to focus on her. His gaze felt aggressive. He’d always looked at her with so much awe, such wonder. Now, she felt like prey in the predator’s den. 

“Jane Foster,” he breathed. Even his voice was wrong. It was...weak, gravelly. “I’ve made it, then.” 

Jane walked towards him as he stepped off the platform. She took his hand in hers and rubbed his knuckles with her thumb. His eyes didn’t reflect an ounce of recognition. And that _blue_...it was eerie. “Are you alright, Thor?”

Thor grinned and tilted his head back in cruel laughter. Jane dropped his hand. “Alright? I’ve never been better, Jane. I’ve finally seen the light.” 

“What are you talking about?” Jane asked. Her hands were shaking, now—her whole body actually. She took another step away from him. Whatever Thor she’d known in New Mexico, this wasn’t him. 

Thor spread his arms out wide and laughed again. It echoed off the walls so loud it shook the rafters. “This realm is mine to be conquered. My father was a fool to doubt me. I will be more than just king of Asgard, I will be king of the Nine Realms.”

Jane stumbled back so far that her heel slipped off the back of the platform, and she fell to the ground. Thor had always towered over her, but now he was imposing, gigantic. He clenched his fist tight around the golden scepter in his hand and looked down at her with that same maniacal grin on his face. 

For a second (maybe she imagined it, maybe she was projecting) there was a flicker of something normal in Thor’s gaze. “Join me, Jane,” he said, thrusting his free hand to her, “You are above these mortals, just as I am.”

Jane frowned. “Thor...this isn’t right. _You’re_ not right. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Darkness swept over Thor’s features like a funeral shroud. His jaw tightened. “Oh, I see.”

The hair on Jane’s arms stood up straight and her teeth buzzed. Her eyes shot to Clint, who crouched on his knees off to the side, still out of Thor’s notice. His eyes were wide. “Run,” he mouthed. 

Jane scrambled to her feet and ran, crouched, towards where Clint waited behind those storage containers. Just as she dropped to her knees, a blast went off and knocked her a few feet forward into the wall. Her jaw smacked against the pipes jutting from the wall, and she sprawled out on her back, dazed. A shaky, two-faced version of Clint hovered over her for a second as he drew his bow. She probably nodded. 

Clint disappeared, and she turned her head to follow him as he did. He slowly approached Thor, who was wrapped in lightning from fingertip to shoulder, with an arrow in the notch. He yelled something. He sounded scared. Jane’s head hurt. Thor smiled again, and Jane shivered at the sight of him. He raised that scepter and pressed it against Clint’s chest. Soft blue ran in tendrils up the shaft and into his skin. 

Jane realized, then, that the same blue of the scepter had filled Thor’s eyes, too. Her brows knitted. The pieces fell into place in her head like dominos. Maybe if she could get that scepter away from him, she could save them both. With a shake of her head, she pushed herself to her knees. Thor’s eyes were on Clint, whose eyes were now distant and the color of pure ice. Jane took the opportunity and hoped that Thor would resist the power enough to spare her life. Or at least that Fury would come in here and distract him further. 

She locked two hands on the handle of the scepter and— 

_“I won’t lie and say this isn’t satisfying,” Thanos murmured as he circled Thor’s stiff body. “You’re quiet, at least. I should’ve caved months ago.”_

_Thor wanted to scream, or maybe cry, or at least wiggle his damn toes. He’d been under the false assumption that the scepter would take him over fully—mind, body, and soul. This was worse. This...entrapment. Being forced to stand dutifully by and watch as Thanos used his body to hurt and destroy._

_“I’ve looked inside your head, Odinson,” he said as he paused to stand directly in front of him. He ran a hooked finger down Thor’s cheek. Anger raced through Thor’s veins; he couldn’t even cringe. “You’re so close to becoming a monster.”_

_The words stung. He thought of Jotunheim, of his father’s fury and disappointment, of Loki. Unworthy, unworthy, unworthy. He felt lightning stir under his skin, moving on instinct. Or could Thanos conjure it now? Betrayal made his insides twist; even the storm abandoned him now._

_Thanos flattened his massive palm against Thor’s chest. “All I need to do is rip that heart of gold right out of your chest.”_

_Thanos pushed Thor back against the cot. Thor didn’t even have the autonomy to catch himself, and his head slammed against the metal wall without any cushion. Warm blood rolled down the back of his neck._

_“It shouldn’t be too hard. Your head’s a blank slate,” he said, “If I just take out those golden memories of yours, I think I can turn you. You won’t even realize you’re under my control.”_

_Every fiber of Thor’s being burned with fight, but it wasn’t enough. Thanos brought the scepter up again and a fresh wave of fear coursed through Thor’s body. Tears welled in his eyes, and he managed a whimper that cut through the power of the spell. Not his memories, anything but those. His anchors, the one thing that had gotten him through months of torture. Without them, he shuddered to imagine what he would become._

_In the seconds it took for Thanos to bring the scepter to rest against his forehead, Thor thought of his family. He saw Frigga with a soft smile on her face, humming a lullaby as she braided his hair. He saw Loki, covered in flour from head to toe and scowling after they’d gotten in a fight in the kitchen. He saw Sif and the Warriors Three around a fire in Vanaheim’s ancient woods, swapping stories among them. If his body couldn’t fight back, his mind would. Up until the very end._

_Thor felt the cool prick of the scepter against his skin, then he slumped against the back of his cell. Thanos sighed and sat him back up like he was an infant with no strength yet. He gripped Thor’s jaw and turned his loose neck to face him._

_“Odin held you back. Your hammer was never a tool, it was shackles. You don’t need Asgard, but you will rule it out of mercy. You’ll be ruler of the Nine Realms, as long as you bring me the Tesseract. I have freed you.”_

_A cruel grin spread across Thor’s bloody lips. His eyes, no longer blank but full of bloodlust and fury, lit up at the prospect. “Aye, you’ve shown me the truth. My father is a fool, but he was right to fear my power. Yggdrasil will fall to me.”_

_Thanos chuckled. “Stand up, Odinson. You have a realm to conquer.”_

Jane let out a strangled cry as Thor swept his arm back to send her flying across the room. She felt blisters burn into her hands as her grip was violently torn away from the scepter. The vision of Thor burned away like an oil soaked slip of paper, but it lingered in her mind‘s eye. Her heart was pounding. What had she seen? What had happened to Thor? 

Somewhere mid-flight, she noticed Fury and Agent Hill rush into the hangar with guns drawn. Three gunshots went off, but they sounded distant. Probably the head trauma. Jane hit the ground with a jolt that ran all the way up her spine. Lying on her side, she looked up at the scene unfolding in front of her. 

Like the gunshots (that had apparently had no effect on Thor, since he was still standing tall), Thor’s voice had a dream-like quality to it. “Barton, take care of this.”

“Of course,” Clint replied in a dull, robotic tone. 

He raised his gun and pointed it directly at Fury’s chest and fired off a round. Jane tucked her head under her hands and curled into a ball. Fury’s body made a thud when it hit the ground. Another gunshot, another thud. _Maria._

“Secure the tesseract and escort me out,” Thor said. 

Jane peeled her eyes open to see him turned back towards her. She squeezed her eyes shut again in an attempt to play dead. Clint’s distinct light footsteps, product of his carnie days, crossed the room and got close to her. She half expected him to speak to her, to shoot her, to do _something_ to betray the sense that he had any semblance of autonomy. He did nothing of the sort. He did what Thor told him to do and nothing more. No, not what Thor told him to do. Thor was just a vessel, she knew that now. Clint was acting on second-hand commands. 

Jane laid still on the ground until she was sure Thor and Clint were gone, and then some. She opened her eyes slowly, then swept them over place. No sign of anyone but Fury and Maria’s lifeless bodies. 

Jane pushed herself to her knees with a string of mumbled curses. Something must’ve broken when she hit the wall, if the agony was any indication. Despite the excruciating pain, she crawled to Maria’s side. 

The second she placed her hand on Maria’s arm, the agent’s blue eyes popped open with intensity. “Hey Doc,” she said, a smirk playing on her lips. “Did we scare you?”

Jane nearly collapsed from relief. “Oh thank God,” she breathed, flattening her palm against her chest. “Are you okay?” 

Maria pushed herself up onto her elbows with a groan. “Just bruised. We’re lucky Barton aimed for the bulletproof vests,” she said. She tilted her head. “What about you?” 

Jane bit her lip. “I think I might’ve broken my tailbone.” 

“That hurts like a bitch,” Maria said, standing, “Speaking from experience.”

Jane scoffed and took Maria’s outstretched hand. Pain burned through her entire lower back and into her legs, but she managed to stay on two feet. The two of them turned to Fury, who was already standing and barking orders into a walkie-talkie. 

“Evacuate the facility, get the pentagon on the phone, and do whatever it takes to keep the target from leaving with that tesseract,” he yelled, his deep voice booming in the empty space. 

Jane’s stomach twisted. She thought of Thor, alone and hurt, trapped inside of himself. She managed a half step forward and straightened her back as much as her injury would allow. “Director Fury,” she said with all the courage she could muster. 

Fury turned to her with an eyebrow raised. “Dr. Foster?”

“It’s my professional opinion that we should not treat Thor as a hostile,” she said. Her heart was pounding. Was she doing this? What was wrong with her? “I saw something when I tried to wrestle the scepter from him. He’s under some kind of spell. He..he doesn’t even know he’s under it. He’s hurt.” 

Fury’s face was a mask of unreadable emotion. He turned his whole body to face her. “Your professional opinion, hm? Professional as a doctor or professional as Thor’s lover?”

Jane’s eyes widened. Anger rushed into her chest. She could’ve hit him. She wanted to. “With all due respect, that’s none of your damn business.” 

“It most certainly is my damn business if it puts my agents in danger,” Fury replied, crossing his arms over his barrel chest as if that was supposed to be intimidating. 

“You think I’m lying, then? If anything, I’m _helping_ you. Wouldn’t you rather know exactly what you’re dealing with? Or do you want to fight blind?” 

Fury was quiet, now. Jane felt a thrill swept over her. Did she just win a verbal fight against the director of S.H.I.E.L.D? Bad ass. She turned her chin up, barely containing the grin she could feel pulling at her lips. 

“He’s hurt, Director,” Jane said, more softly. Her voice felt tight. She saw Thor’s face locked in the hands of that monster again, blood dripping from his mouth. “All I’m asking for is a little restraint.”

Fury took in a long, slow breath. “Fine. A little restraint. I don’t have time to argue anymore. Agent Hill, take Dr. Foster to the Jeep and let’s get out of here.”

The ground shook beneath their feet. Jane turned nervous eyes to the ceiling, where bits of asphalt were raining down on the trio. 

Leaning heavily on Hill for support, Jane shuffled forward. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, we’ve reached the point where i no longer have the chapters ahead finished as of posting this. I should be able to finish it in two weeks to stay on schedule but we’ll see! Until then, peace.


	4. the fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the avengers fight a different god.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> annnnddddd we’re back with a new chapter. hope you guys enjoy !

“I never thought it would come to this,” Fury muttered under his breath, casting his one eyed gaze to Natasha. 

It wasn’t true, and Fury knew that she knew it. She stood in contemplative silence, trying to decide if she wanted to play at this hypothetical game. “You knew,” she said, voice steady. She didn’t want to play any games. Not with Clint’s life on the line. “Why else did you start the initiative?”

Fury sighed. “I hoped I’d never use it.”

Natasha watched him step out of the dimly lit hallway and back into the main room. He walked past Rogers, who slipped him a ten dollar bill. Inside joke, Natasha assumed. One she’d have to inquire about. An uneasy Banner spoke with Coulson. Natasha studied him for a moment. She’d seen the footage, she knew what he could do. Still, it was hard to match the quiet and brilliant scientist with the massive green monster he could become. 

There were agents (well, agents and Jane Foster, who had bullied Fury into letting her help) stationed at every screen in that room, watching faces blur past in their mad dash to locate Thor, Barton, or any of the other agents they’d gathered on their way out. 

It had been 17 hours since the attack and subsequent destruction of the New Mexico base. Clint had been missing for longer, she told herself. Hell, they’d been missing together for years at a time before. But that was the thing, wasn’t it? They weren’t together. 

There was no one around to see the frustrated tears that burned in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall anyway. No need to weep yet. Clearing her throat, she pushed her way into the big room to join Dr. Foster by her observation desk. 

Jane stood with her hands leaning against the desk. Her face was screwed with pain. (Broken tailbone. Hurt like a bitch; Natasha knew from experience.) Natasha felt sympathy twist in her chest. She laid a gentle hand on Jane’s shoulder. “Do you need medicine, Dr. Foster?”

“Already took some,” she said, her voice strained. She looked up with a thin but good natured smile. “It’s taking a while to kick in. And please, call me Jane. No one calls me doctor.”

Natasha nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

They fell into semi-comfortable silence as they turned to look back at the rapidly changing screen. Natasha’s stomach turned. This particular monitor was searching for Thor, the other half for Clint. Two dozen blonde faces blurred into each other. None looked like the pictures Natasha had been shown. None caused Jane to react. 

It was the not knowing that drove Natasha insane. The unpredictability, the confusion, the blind hope. She’d never been idealistic. That was Clint’s job. Now he was gone. ( _ Not for long,  _ she heard him say through a lopsided grin,  _ Can’t get rid of me that easy _ .) She shook her head with a fond smile. 

“I’ve got a hit.”

Natasha and Jane, with a grunt of pain, both jumped at the sound. Fury rushed down the ramp and reached Sitwell’s side before Natasha could get there. His broad back hid the screen. More not knowing. She clenched her fist at her side. 

“67% match,” Sitwell said. “Wait, cross referencing, 89%.”

Jane limped over and pushed her way forward until she was close enough to see. Natasha huffed and shook her head. She was stubborn, that one. 

“That’s him,” Jane said, her voice strained, “That’s Thor. Why’s he in Germany?” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Fury said. He turned to Rogers, who straightened as if called to attention. “Captain, you’re up.” 

Natasha didn’t need to be told what to do next. As Steve left the room to retrieve his suit and shield, Natasha slipped out of sight towards the hangar. She kept her breathing steady and heartbeat even. Cool, level headed. That was what Clint needed her to be. 

Her fastest time for setting up the jet was under a minute, but if someone had been timing her, there was a good chance she’d beaten it just then. Rogers entered the hangar a couple minutes later and walked up the jet’s ramp with unsure steps. Natasha looked over the back of the pilot’s seat. 

“Hey, Captain,” she greeted. Steve brightened at the sound. “C’mon up here. I know you can’t copilot, but the view’s nice.”

Steve smiled. “Thank you. Fury said that Stark has been contacted. I’m sure you know what he means.”

Natasha nodded. “Tony Stark, son of Howard Stark. He pilots an armored suit. You’ll see soon.”

Steve made a little amused voice as he sat in the copilot’s chair. He was gentle with his shield and kept it on his lap. “Forgive me if I seem tense,” he said after a moment’s silence. The jet’s engines roared to life, and he flinched. “I’m still a little nervous in planes.”

Natasha gave him a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry about it. I get it. We all get nervous.”

Steve seemed to want to keep up light conversation since as soon as she fell silent, he chirped up again with another topic. Nervous talker, she guessed and filed away in her little mental folder for Rogers. A spy, thing, yes, but also in the hopes that one day they could be friends. Friends who knew things about each other instinctively like that. 

“I should have brought a sketchbook,” he said, tone warm and eyes dreamy. “I doubt I’ll get a view like this again.”

Natasha shrugged as she flipped switches. She always liked the buzz, the rush of it.The whole plane shook with power. She imagined it put Steve on edge. “If you stick around, you’ll get views like this all the time. Buckle up, alright?”

Steve was ever the dutiful soldier; she heard the belt click into place a second later. 

“Have you ever fought someone with powers like Thor’s?” he asked. Natasha thrummed her hands against the steering mechanism, biting back annoyance. If flying wasn’t second nature to her by now, this might’ve been distracting. “Or...an enhanced individual?” 

“I’ve fought enhanced individuals before,” she said. She didn’t dare let her mind drift back to those individuals.  _ Yelena. James. Alexi.  _ No, no. The sky. Rogers. Focus.“Never a god.” 

“I fought a man who thought he was a god,” Steve said, cracking a half-smile. “So I’ve got one up on you.”

“Until we get to Thor, at least. We’ll be even, then.”

“Yeah, even.”

The jet rolled forward under Natasha’s guiding hand. Steve’s grip on the shield in his lap tightened. It stayed like that for the first ten minutes of flight before he slacked off. His shoulders were tense the whole way through, though. At least he’d stopped the chit-chat. Even though, Natasha noticed with a bit of surprise, he was pleasant company. Intelligent enough to not be totally lost by everything going on. Or intelligent enough to not let his confusion show. 

“Why’d you give Fury cash earlier?” she asked when they were plenty of miles into the trip and over water. 

He looked too nervous to speak, but he managed. “Uh, a bet. I said I wouldn’t be surprised by anything he had to show me. The helicarrier, you know, surprised me.”

Natasha hummed. “It’s gotta be a shock, you know, coming here.” 

“Yeah,” he said. His voice was low and melancholy. “But I just traded in one war for another.” 

Natasha could understand, relate even. So much so that she let the conversion die, and Steve never resurrected it. 

* * *

Steve’s hand ached from holding the strap of his shield so tight. His heart pounded quick as a rabbit’s in his chest. Jumping out of planes was old news for him. Why was he so damn scared? 

“I’ll circle around, Steve,” Natasha said over her shoulder. 

His nod was shaky, but she wouldn’t be able to tell from his back. He took a slow breath, shut his eyes, then jumped. Wind  _ whooshed _ past his ears, and his stomach hit the ground a few seconds before he did. Training kicked in, no matter how long it had been since he’d used it, and he landed on his toes and rolled to a stop. Natasha had dropped him a few hundred meters from the opera house, so he sprinted in its direction. 

Adrenaline pumped in his veins, growing in urgency as screams rang out in the night. It smelled like an incoming storm. His teeth buzzed with the lightning in the air. 

“...me now?” a deep, accented voice bellowed.  _ Thor _ . 

Steve rounded a corner into the open square. A crowd of people crouched to avoid the bolts of lightning flying seemingly uncontrolled from Thor who stood in the center of them like a maypole. Lightning wrapped itself in coils around his body. His head was tilted back at what had to be a painful angle towards the sky. 

“Odin Allfather!” he called. He stumbled back and chuckled at himself. Steve’s belly gave an uneasy lurch. Thor wasn’t just possessed, he was nuts. “Turn your gaze to me! Look upon what I’ve become! Look what you’ve made me!”

Steve set his jaw. No more of this. He turned his body like he’d done so many times before (though it felt almost like the first time) and slung his shield directly at Thor’s head. The vibranium disk collided with Thor’s jaw and sang a violent, ear-shattering tune. Thor’s head whipped back so sharply that Steve half expected to hear it crack. 

Steve caught his shield as it flew back to him and made his way through the crowd. “That’s enough, Thor. Stand down.”

It took Thor a long moment to focus on Steve’s face. Whether that was from the spell or the hit, Steve didn’t know. It gave him time enough to get within a few feet of him, which would prove either useful or disastrous, and he wasn’t eager to find out which. 

Thor laughed with his entire body. Steve guessed he usually had a warm laugh, but this was unsettling. His brilliant and broken smile didn’t waver as he said, “This is Midgard’s defense? A man without a weapon, but a shield?” 

It was an old line. Steve had heard it before. He didn’t give Thor an answer, though frankly, Thor hadn’t asked for one. 

His smile vanished. “Pathetic.”

Steve had just enough time to note the sudden drop of pressure in his ears before lightning enveloped him. His body went stiff. Like a character in the old nickelodeons, he fell plank-like to the ground. The pain was unmeasurable, yet not unlike the pain of receiving the serum. The sound that tore free from his throat certainly reminded him of Stark’s chamber. 

Steve couldn’t be sure whether he’d fallen unconscious or not. The next time he opened his eyes, his vision was almost fully white. Blobs of darkness hovered over him. His enhanced ears picked up whispers of, “Don’t touch him.” and “He’s dead.”

A low groan came, as if his body objected to being accused of death. His vision was clearing, at least, however slowly. 

“Steve!” 

Steve turned to Natasha’s voice to see a vaguely Widow-shaped mass rushing to his side. He blinked a few times, wondered if he still had eyelashes, then opened his eyes fully. Relief flushed in his chest; he could see again. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have hit him in the face,” she scolded, “I don’t want to alarm you, Steven, but you’re missing most of your eyebrows.”

Steve coughed weakly. “Damn. What about the rest of my hair?”

“Singed, but intact. Can you stand?”

“Maybe,” he said, letting Natasha guide him to a seated position. He could feel the itch of accelerated healing all over his body, taking care of his burns faster than any salve could’ve. “Yeah, yeah I can.”

With Natasha at his back, he pushed himself to his feet. His stomach rolled, but he managed to keep his lunch down. “Where’s Thor?”

“Stark’s—“

Before she could finish, a flash of red and gold blurred before Steve’s eyes. Loud, scratchy music blared from invisible speakers (the suit?), and it only made Steve’s headache worse. Tony looked back at the two of them. Steve would’ve sworn the suit itself was smirking. 

“Agent Romanoff, miss me?”

Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Another?” Thor laughed. 

Steve shuddered at the sound. He looked past Tony to see Thor still in place at the center of the square. The massive lightning blast he’d hit Steve with hadn’t dulled his shine in the slightest; brilliant blue lightning encircled Thor’s body like a protective cage. 

“Yeah, Spark Plug,” Tony said, squaring his stance. Disks in the center of his hands glowed blue. “Another. Why don’t you return the tesseract and come with us?”

Steve limped to a better vantage point. He was weak, yes, but capable of throwing his shield if he had to. For now, he’d watch nervously by. 

Thor tilted his head back. Arrogant, vain. “Why don’t I watch you burn?” 

The barometric pressure dropped again. Sensing this, Steve darted out to grab Natasha and pull her close to his chest. Pain tore his muscles to shreds, but he managed to bring them both to their knees, shielded from the lightning. 

Steve looked up after a few seconds of blinding fear. Natasha was shaken, but she was unharmed. Steve couldn’t be sure (his whole body was a medley of pain; it all blended together), but he thought he was alright, too. That left Stark. 

Steve turned back, expecting to see a suit on the ground and a triumphant Thor standing over it. What he saw instead was Tony standing tall, hands raised. 

“Well, would you look at that?” he breathed. 

There was a brief flicker of fear on Thor’s face, then Tony pushed his arms towards him and beams of energy burst from his gloves. Steve flinched. He regretted telling Fury nothing could surprise him; he was starting to think someone had taken that as a challenge. 

The energy thrusted Thor backwards, sending him slamming through the opera house stairs. Marble pillars crumbled, lightning followed him like a comet's trail to the ground. 

Tony moved in, still tense. Steve didn’t waste time jogging to his side, and Natasha followed suit. The three of them moved in tandem, approaching Thor as one would a wild animal. Steve expected him to be unconscious or at least dazed, but when they were close enough for his face to be visible, there was a smile waiting for them. 

“Finally,” Thor chuckled, “A challenge.” 

With a growl, the god pushed himself to his feet. Natasha drew her pistols. Steve couldn’t help but think they wouldn’t do any good. Tony was their best chance, but they were Fury’s Avengers. “Earth’s mightiest”, he’d said, and they needed to make a united stand. 

Even if it might be their last. 

“Look at the three of you,” Thor said, “Is this all Midgard has to offer?”

Up close Steve could see how unnaturally blue his eyes were. It made his stomach twist uncomfortably. No matter how big a threat he was, he couldn’t shake the feeling he was fighting an innocent. 

Natasha flexed her fingers around the handles of her guns. “We’re all you’ve got, big guy.” 

Thor shook the gravel from his shoulders. “Then this will be easier than I expected.”

Thor lunged forward, angling his body towards Natasha. Steve acted on impulse, slinging his shield towards Thor just as Tony hit him with a repulsor beam. Thor stumbled backwards, not even dazed; just knocked off course. 

“Get out of here Natasha!” Steve yelled. He rushed forward and snagged his shield off the ground. He landed a punch square on Thor’s jaw, but all he got was a jolt of pain that ran from his knuckles to his elbow. Thor didn’t flinch. 

Two gunshots rang out. Dammit, Romanoff. These knocked Thor back more than his punch had, but not nearly enough. Lightning sizzled in the air, burning Steve every time he took a swing for Thor, even though he missed. Stark raised his suit off the ground and flipped over Thor’s head, landing at his back. He slung his arm around Thor’s neck and squeezed. Thor turned his attention solely to Tony. Panic swept into Steve’s chest. Thor wrapped his hands around Tony’s armored wrists and clenched tight enough that the metal crunched under his fingers. 

Tony screamed. His knees gave out from under him, and he slumped to the ground. Thor growled. His trunk-like arm hit Steve in the chest, sending him sprawling into Natasha. Russian curses flew from her lips as they tumbled to the pavement in a tangle of limbs. All the air in his lungs rushed out of him when his back collided with the cobblestone streets. 

Steve laid, gasping, on the ground for what felt like hours. It was Stark’s strangled gasp that stirred him. He sucked in a sharp breath and pushed himself to his feet. Thor had Tony by the neck, dangling him a few feet above the ground. He brought his other hand to the face plate of the armor. 

“Let’s see what’s under here, hm? Coward,” he snarled before he ripped the metal away with a roar. Tony’s face was battered and bloody, but there was still determination in his brown eyes. “Puny mortal. You couldn’t even protect one city, how—“

Steve had had enough. He threw shield as hard as he couldn’t at the back of Thor’s head with enough force to make him drop Stark to the ground. Tony sputtered, splaying his limbs out around him. Natasha rushed to him as Thor turned slowly to face Steve. 

“That’s enough,” Steve said, hoping his voice sounded stern. Nothing he did now would make a difference, but he’d stopped Thor from killing Tony, for now. “What do you want from us?”

A smile spread across Thor’s lips. “I’m here to conquer Midgard and prove to my father,” He thrust his head upwards, glaring at the stars, “that he was wrong to hold me back. Have you learned, Allfather?”

There was a tremor in Thor’s lightning-bound hands. Steve didn’t miss it, but he didn’t care. The sympathy he held for Thor felt like an old memory now. “Have you proved your point?”

Thor pressed his lips together. “For now,” he said with a shrug. He seemed so disinterested in the destruction he’d sowed. Anger flared in Steve’s chest. Thor cast a look back at Tony crumpled on the ground. He had the nerve to smile. “Aye, for now.”

Lightning burst forth from under Thor. Steve lunged forward, but Thor flew away before he could so much as brush his fingertips against his boots. He swore under his breath before dropping to his knees beside Tony and Natasha. 

Tony coughed weakly. “What an introduction, huh?” he joked, wincing. There was a shard of metal sticking out of his forehead, not buried into the bone, but buried. 

Steve couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m Steve Rogers, by the way.”

Tony held up his uninjured hand. “Tony Stark. I believe you knew my father.”

“I did,” he said, “I was sorry to hear he’d passed.”

Tony shrugged. “Shit happens. Say, Not-Natalie, you wanna take me to a hospital or should we keep exchanging pleasantries on the ground?”

Natasha rolled her eyes, but she moved to help Tony off the ground anyway. 

“You all look like you’re in desperate need of leadership.” 

The voice was just foreign enough to cause alarm. It’s owner, a tall man with a messy mop of dark hair, widened his eyes when he found two pistols, one armored gauntlet, and a very stern glare directed at him. 

“No need for that,” he said with a sickly sweet smile and a stretch of his arms, “I’m Loki of Asgard. Here to help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter will be later than scheduled sadly :(


End file.
